


Vessel

by inelegantly (Lir)



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irisviel knows from the beginning what her role in the holy grail war happens to be. The masters may be soldiers, and the servants may be weapons, but Irisviel is a vessel, striving to fill herself with worthy experiences before the war's conclusion washes all her efforts into an uncertain future she can only hope is the one she was working to bring about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vessel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skylark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/gifts).



> I too enjoy character studies, and enjoyed the opportunity to explore Irisviel's character beyond the focus canon gives her.

  
  
  
  


If Irisviel were an ordinary human, perhaps she would not have accepted Avalon the way that she did.

If she were ordinary, perhaps Kiritsugu would have kept the relic for himself. Instead, she is the one who accepts the scabbard with a hand on Kiritsugu's shoulder, who holds herself resolute as he pushes it into her like a knife into her gut. It slides through her like a vanishing trick, disappearing until there is only Kiritsugu's empty hand on her bare belly.

With anyone else, surely they would have felt too full. 

The scabbard vanishes into Irisviel like it's filling a void, pushing up between her ribs and lodging against her heart. It fills her up like sweet water pouring into an empty vessel, flooding her barren insides with a feeling that's clean and cool. Irisviel sighs, when Kiritsugu takes his hand away, pulled back as soon as the task is done lest he make the mistake of doing something so frivolous as _lingering._

She tells herself, it's like a gift from him, a treasured object as practical as everything that he is.

With Irisviel, even with Avalon inside of her, she doesn't feel full enough.

  
  
  
  


With Saber, Irisviel experiences a country she'd previously only heard tales of. 

There's still a shadow of danger hounding their heels, but Fuyuki City spreads out before them and for once in her too-short life, Irisviel feels that the entire world is hers to explore. Saber's arm is solid beneath her palm, the crisp fabric of her suit jacket crinkling only slightly with the bending of her elbow. Irisviel tucks her fingers against the crook of Saber's arm, and lets her lovely knight escort her down the sun-drenched streets. 

"I've never seen anything like this before," Irisviel confides, as they gaze in through a storefront's wide glass window. "Not in person, anyway." 

She glances sideways at Saber, watching the smooth cast of the other girl's face. Saber's eyes are too sharp for the task of examining pretty handbags in a shop, cutting across what she's viewing with the assessing air of a tactician who cannot put old habits to rest. Irisviel smiles at her, and for a moment the steel-bright alertness in Saber's eyes softens by a hair. 

"I am glad we can do this together," Saber says. "It was within my power to give this to you, and I would not have wished to do anything less." 

Irisviel shakes her head, shedding the weight of Saber's formality and countering it with the soft, warm glow in her voice. "I'm glad that we could do this together, too." 

Saber cracks the smallest of smiles in return, and Irisviel's heart swells with the subtle victory. 

They continue through the city, arm in arm, taking in busy stores and unfamiliar streets, parks lush with green vegetation and the ever-changing cast of people milling throughout. Each new sight Irisviel commits to memory, a beautiful collage that fills her mind and projects across the backs of her eyelids. She tells herself, she'll never forget these small gifts, transient moments spent beneath a blue and wheeling vault of sky. 

Afternoon stretches toward evening and the orange light of the setting sun slants across their path, glinting off the gold in Saber's hair as she bows her head in reaching for a cafe door before Irisviel can even lift her hand.

"Allow me," Saber says. "Princess." 

Irisviel pauses, as Saber lifts her face and offers the growing stretch of a courtly smile. With that, Irisviel is unable to help but laugh, a brief, amused peal of giggles before she precedes Saber into the cafe. As Saber follows her, the bell over the door gives its own cheerful, jangling ring, echoing the joyous clamor vibrating inside Irisviel's breast.

"I see that chivalry is alive and well," Irisviel says. "Though from you, I am more delighted than surprised." 

"It is a knight's place," Saber replies, "to wait dutifully on the needs of a lady." 

But she's smiling again, as she offers Irisviel the renewed use of her arm so they might walk together to the counter at the cafe's back, and the delighted clamor strung through the beating of Irisviel's heart only swells stronger within the confines of her chest. 

Spending the day with Saber, the hollow places inside Irisviel's heart feel a little bit fuller.

  
  
  
  


With Kiritsugu, Irisviel only wants to smooth the roughness of him down, wants to gentle him until he will no longer cut himself on his own sharp edges. 

Kiritsugu is all points and angles, jagged bits that have been broken for so long that Irisviel can hardly imagine how they'd look whole. Kiritsugu is a fortress, a labyrinth, someone held remote and yet constantly changing, reforming himself into a pattern even less navigable all the while Irisviel is attempting to walk that winding path toward his heart. 

With Kiritsugu, Irisviel too often finds herself standing alone, arms wrapped around herself when its his stiff shoulders she wants to wrap herself around.

She places herself beside him, a shoulder by his shoulder, an arm brushing his arm. She opens herself, in calm simplicity, to his teachings, his tales, to the myriad things he's shown to her, all within the castle home she cannot leave. Kiritsugu's voice is steady as he tells her stories of far-away countries, of people he's met on his travels, of things that he's learned. 

She loves him, straight through his twisted up insides, for the magic that is Kiritsugu's ability to pour into her the things he cannot keep for himself. He's a philosopher's stone, transforming her castle into far-off lands, transforming their shared bitterness, loneliness into a sweeter life. 

Kiritsugu is miraculous for how he's changed her, while never changing so many damaged parts of himself.

  
  
  
  


After Archer vanishes from the kings' banquet, the courtyard is left a little more shadowed and dim — and not only for the absence of his gold-gilded form. 

Irisviel comes to stand by Saber's side, a shoulder by her shoulder, an arm brushing her arm, looking slantwise at the stiff carriage to Saber's frame as she holds herself aloof after the passing of her fellow heroic spirits. She's tense enough that Irisviel can feel it, strung taut as a bowstring even as further color drains out of her pale face. 

"I remember," Saber tells her, a frightful tremor lurking underneath her voice, "there was once a knight who left Camelot, saying King Arthur could never understand others' feelings."

She doesn't look at Irisviel as she speaks, will not know the pained look that hovers in Irisviel's too-wide eyes. Irisviel watches as Saber stares off into nothing, like her shadowed eyes are gazing into a place far too distant for Irisviel to catch even the smallest glimpse of it. 

"Maybe those feelings were shared by all who once sat at the Round Table," Saber finishes, as her jaw clenches and her hands squeeze briefly in place at her sides. 

It pains Irisviel, somewhere deep in her chest, to hear the doubt in Saber's voice, to hear the resignation to this editing of her past. She remembers what Rider had said, telling Saber to wake from the sad dream whose likes were nothing but a curse, remembers Archer's fearful delight over the heavy burden Saber has elected to bear. 

It's a familiar feeling, the one Irisviel knows then. She can't quite reach out, cannot bring herself to take Saber's near and dangling hand with her own. There's a gulf between them which she does not know how to cross, not in the face of Saber's commitment to her cause, not before the emptiness from a sacrifice Saber made for people she no longer believes ever valued the efforts of her heart. 

She thinks, Saber must know more of stranger's feelings than anyone ought to bear. She sees the weight dragging at Saber's shoulders, pulling hope out of her in ragged ribbons that vanish into the frigid night air. She watches the way Saber empties herself of frivolous belief, keeping only the hollowest determination bound within her breast. 

Irisviel witnesses Saber steeling herself for the sacrifices they will both still need to make in this war.

  
  
  
  


"You aren't really worried about another heroic spirit appearing to mount an attack. Are you?" Irisviel asks, as she pokes her head out to see Saber standing watch beside her bedroom door. 

There's a too-familiar tenseness to Saber's posture, a rigidity born from too many responsibilities taken on, piled atop her shoulders until they strain and struggle not to bow beneath the weight. She looks away from Irisviel's inquiring gaze, casting her own eyes off down the empty hallway to stare instead at nothing. 

"I wouldn't be able to forgive myself," Saber says. "If I didn't protect you." 

Irisviel thinks, if that is the case, whoever will be left to protect Saber? She steps into the hall and moves beside Saber, and this time she lifts one hand to close fingers around Saber's wrist. 

Saber glances up, eyes widening momentarily with surprise, and allows for Irisviel to turn her around. 

"Come inside," Irisviel says. "There's no reason for you not to be comfortable, in a place where you'll be certain no one has come to attack me." 

"I shouldn't," Saber says. "You deserve your privacy." 

"And I'm saying that you should," Irisviel insists. "Are you determined to refuse my invitation?" 

Saber wavers, a momentary flicker of indecision darting across her face. Irisviel tugs lightly with the hand still wrapped around Saber's wrist, and after a moment Saber allows herself to be led. 

It's dim inside the bedroom, the only light that of the moon through the curtains Irisviel has not yet drawn. The covers are turned back already on her bed, and it's there that she leads Saber, sitting down on the mattress' edge even when Saber resists her enough to ensure she remains standing. 

"We could both use a little comfort, don't you think?" Irisviel says, reaching out so she's holding both of Saber's hands. "And didn't you say once that you'd do what you could for me, little though that might be?" 

Saber's expression softens, despairing, though she still points out, "When I made that promise, this is not what I had in mind."

"Won't you though?" Irisviel asks. "If it's only for my request?" 

She leans back toward her pillows, her weight pulling at Saber's arms as Saber brings her knee up to kneel atop the bed. Irisviel lets Saber's hands go only for them to fall and plant themselves to either side of her head. Saber's moonlit face is caught with an expression of wonderment, staring down at Irisviel as she reclines easily against the sheets. 

"I believe you also told me once," Irisviel says, gentle hands rising to rest at Saber's waist, "that once you mount something and grab the reins, you can ride just about anything." 

Saber's scandalized gasp is loud in the quiet room, met only by Irisviel's unapologetic giggling. When her laughter quiets itself, there's still a joyful smile tugging at the corner's of her mouth, is still a warm light dwelling within her gaze. Her hands are soft at Saber's waist, but sure, nothing about her touch expressing uncertainty about what she wants. 

"I thought that was a very apt turn of phrase, at the time," Irisviel adds, in secretive confidence. "I wondered that this wasn't what you meant all along." 

"My lady..." Saber says, falling back on the respite of chivalry, though her careful manners take her no further. "I don't want to overstep." 

"Take the reins," Irisviel says, well aware she no longer wants them for herself. "And I'll tell you if you've gone too fast." 

For a long moment, Saber only stares down into Irisviel's face, her green eyes sharp and searching, picking at the peaceful set of Irisviel's features for whatever anomaly she thinks should not be there. But Irisviel is nothing save calm, and when Saber starts to lean in toward her, Irisviel tilts her face up to meet Saber for the kiss.

Saber's mouth is gentle against hers, gifting Irisviel with only the lightest brush of lips against lips. There's a halting quality to her motions, at first, tiny pecks given slowly enough that Irisviel might stop her at any moment. Irisviel doesn't. She presses back, lips parting, pulse racing steadily in her ears. Each kiss is a droplet of water onto parched ground, is a sweet promise Irisviel pulls into herself with treasuring hands. 

Her fingers push underneath the hem of Saber's jacket, following the line of Saber's spine up along her back through the fabric of her dress shirt. Saber arches against her hands, lithe and graceful, and pulls her face up to stare at Irisviel with clouded jade-green eyes. 

Her hips push down against Irisviel's hips, and she shifts so that her thigh draws up between Irisviel's thighs. When Irisviel pulls up her knees her nightgown hitches higher around her hips, and Saber's hand is gentle when it reaches down to push the fabric the rest of the way out of the way. 

"Like this," Saber murmurs, her gaze intent on Irisviel's face, "I don't believe I will be the one riding." 

Irisviel laughs, delighted and surprised, and pulls Saber's face down to press happy kisses to Saber's mouth. There's a care to Saber she finds comforting, just as she requested — a reassurance that comes from the thoughtful precision to everything that Saber does. Saber offers her leg and Irisviel rocks slowly against it, her arms wrapped around Saber's still-clothed shoulders. 

It's service, of the same heartfelt sort Saber has always provided to her. 

"Do you mind?" Irisviel asks, as her hands slide down from Saber's shoulders and drag across her chest. Her fingers find the first of the buttons on Saber's jacket, flicking those open and then reaching for the fastenings on the shirt underneath. "If I take this off?" 

"Whatever pleases you," Saber says, as Irisviel pushes her jacket off her shoulders. 

Her shirt is open, when Irisviel again lets Saber pull away from a kiss, Irisviel's hands warm against Saber's abdomen, skating smoothly up over Saber's ribs. She feels flesh and blood and _warm_ , more real than much of anything Irisviel has experienced since the holy grail war was begun. Saber shivers, nigh-imperceptibly, and Irisviel breathes out a marveling gasp in return. 

"Would you..." Saber begins, glancing down between their bodies then up again to Irisviel's face. "—like it, if I were to pay you a bit of more devoted attention?" 

Irisviel breathes out, and nods, and murmurs gently, "Please." 

"I imagine the only way to do this," Saber says, as she slides down between Irisviel's legs. "Would be to feel my way through it." 

Irisviel laughs again, soft and kind and patiently hopeful, and pulls her nightdress up further with her own two hands. Saber's breath is warm on the inside of her thighs, Saber's golden hair touched with just the faintest dab of moonlight when she bows her head. Irisviel sighs when the first brush of Saber's tongue drags against her skin. 

Saber is attentive with each curl of her mouth and flick of her tongue, precisely as devoted as she promised. Irisviel shifts and gasps and arches her back, pressing her hips into Saber's mouth when she can no longer think to refrain. She's aquiver all over, flushed warm and alight with trembles, the feeling filling her until it can do nothing else save overflow, tension pouring from her body as she shivers apart underneath Saber's mouth. 

She's empty again, when she finishes, but Saber returns to her with a kiss to her cheek, and Irisviel has less trouble than she expects, persuading Saber to stay with her and warm her bed.

  
  
  
  


"Answer her, Kiritsugu," Irisviel says, a pleading note in her voice. "This time, you have a responsibility to explain yourself to her." 

She doesn't want to hear his explanation, not as a rumination given like it's an offering for her. She stands between them, as Saber holds herself stiff and aloof, as Kiritsugu belittles them with the casualness of his words. She never pretended to herself that he wasn't a killer — she doesn't need for him to posture as if in apology to her. That isn't what the situation calls for. 

"Speak to Saber," she insists, "Not to me." 

She doesn't want to be there, caught between the ferocity of Kiritsugu's belief and the unyielding wall of Saber's determination. They spit hate at each other in the guise of debate, throwing out insults and criticism, each unwilling to move from a position on which they've staked their entire sense of self. 

She hears Kiritsugu say that what he wants is to save the world, feels that spark of idealism kindled in his wish to give humanity peace, to provide them something good. 

"Justice will not save this world," he finishes, on the tail of his words about weapons and convictions. "I have no interest in pursuing it." 

And that's the difference between him and Saber, isn't it? She's honorable to her core, a self-stylized being of justice and chivalry. When Kiritsugu says things the way that he does, blunt and fatalistic, how can Saber possibly reconcile those foreign-sounding desires with her own? 

Saber denounces Kiritsugu's anger and hatred, but Irisviel does not think them so different. Each of them has so much potential, has within them the ability to bring forth change with their own two hands. Irisviel stares at her own, clutched against her arms, her grasp so weak she can barely hold onto her own fragile body. Saber and Kiritsugu can transform the world; Irisviel can only stand beside them, reflecting their wants off the hollowness of her insides. 

"Emiya Kiritsugu," Saber is saying. "I know not who or what betrayed you, or what has caused you such despair. But your anger and sorrow... These belong to one who once sought justice. Kiritsugu, as a young man, you, too, hoped to become a just hero, correct?"

Kiritsugu won't admit it, Irisviel knows that much without him having to speak. There's an echo in her ears, a distant rushing like wind through an empty place, and everything else Saber says is lost amidst static. 

To her, Kiritsugu is a hero, a champion for those who cannot fight for themselves. 

She thinks, maybe, she trusts Saber so much because Saber is much of the same.

  
  
  
  


"I hadn't meant to let things get this far," Irisviel says, when what she means is _I hadn't meant to live this long._

Saber looks at her with an expression of concern, pulling out a chair for Irisviel when Irisviel's hands can only fumble weakly at its arm. She ushers the seat in against the table, playing her part of the chivalrous knight perfectly until the end. 

"Thank you," Irisviel says. 

It sounds a little too much like _I'm sorry._

"Should we perform another casting?" Saber asks, as she slides onto the chair beside Irisviel's at the table. "If there's anything I can do to better the situation, please, allow me to offer what little I can." 

Irisviel smiles at the familiar words, though its subtle and just the slightest bit sad. "There won't be any need for that." 

The holy grail war is coming to its end. The participants know it, though four of them might remain yet in the competition. But Irisviel knows it most decisively of all, as a certainty that thrums through her bones with a persistent ache. That empty place is still there, the one she always struggled with filling — with Kiritsugu's stories, with work, with the business of war. With Saber's company, warmth that it is amidst battle and fighting.

Her chest aches, wondering if some part of her will remain enough to remember all those happy memories.

"There has to be something I can do," Saber says again. "Let me help." 

Irisviel watches her, so neatly composed that it cannot sound as if she's begging. But there's a tension there, creased around her eyes, a worry Irisviel can tell Saber does not believe she should feel. She has her task to perform in the world, victory in the war, just as Irisviel has her own fate which grows increasingly difficult to ignore. 

"Give me your hand," Irisviel says, nerving her arm to rise just far enough to drop her palm against the table.

Saber reaches out, curling her fingers around Irisviel's fingers. She squeezes, and for a moment it feels as if Irisviel has squeezed Saber too, as if she still has the strength for tiny gestures such as those.

"I'm squeezing your fingers as hard as I can," Irisviel murmurs, offering Saber a sorrowful little smile. 

Saber grips her hand tightly enough that the bones creak in her grasp. That makes Irisviel wince, but it's followed by a laugh that rings far more true. "Well, I see that if it came down only to this, you can squeeze hard enough for two." 

Saber glances away, an apologetic flicker of a smile rising to her lips. "It is something I'm good for." 

Irisviel has no response, and for a few drawn-out minutes they both settle into silence. Irisviel can feel Avalon's cool-water flood coursing through her magic circuits, at its strongest with Saber's hand clasped within her grasp. It's no longer enough, and in her head, Irisviel toys with the possible ways of saying goodbye. 

"Thank you," she says instead. "For being my knight, and my escort through this city." 

"It was my pleasure," Saber says, and does not add that she would happily do so again. 

For that, Irisviel is unexpectedly grateful. That place inside her is yawning wide, too cavernous for even Avalon to hope to fill. But along with the cool balm of magic there comes the warmth of Saber's regard, something Irisviel tucks away as a treasure she would be heartbroken to think to lose. 

"Win the war," Irisviel says, unable to put better words to the sense of devotion rising in her chest. 

"I never hoped to lose," Saber replies, as she rises again from the table without dropping Irisviel's hand. She nudges out Irisviel's chair, and bows forward to drop a kiss to the back of Irisviel's hand. "All I can do here is my best." 

Though it's through a great expenditure of effort, Irisviel rises from her seat all on her own. She leans forward, pecking Saber chastely on the cheek, then again, even more gently, on the mouth. 

"Our best is all any of us could ever have hoped to give. And yours has meant more to me than most."

  
  
  
  



End file.
